A/N: Hello everyone! I'm back with another update (and on schedule for once!). Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, and favourited/followed this story since my last update. I really appreciate the support.
Without further ado, enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 48: We Need To Talk About Evelyn
Opportunities. Some are made. Some are given. Some require discovering. Opportunities provide a chance for us to break into our desired professions, mend our mangled relationships, or bridge new connections into the unknown. Some opportunities lead us upward. Some lead us down, but more often than not, most opportunities lead you to a place you didn't expect. At least, that's what Bart Bass tries to tell himself. Why the long face, B? Surely the opportunity to work at Thorpe Enterprises was everything you wanted and more…wasn't it?
Bart flinched at the sound of Ryan slamming the boardroom door. He was scheduled to have a meeting with both Ryan and Chrissy to discuss the progress on the Brooklyn project. Chrissy carried her laptop and blueprints. Ryan smiled sheepishly, as he embraced his laptop and several file folders.
"Startled you, Bart?" Ryan asked while taking a seat.
"Not at all. I was just thinking of an idea I have for another project I'm working on."
"I can feel the wheels turning from here," Chrissy said. She rolled out the blueprints and picked up a black sharpie.
Bart smirked. He was a little on edge. Now that he was being followed, he kept catching himself looking over his shoulder, and looking for the white Prius every time he left a building. Sure enough, the white Prius would be parked down the street, on the corner, or a block away, waiting for him to make a move. No matter how much he tried to rationalize his own behaviour, justify that it was a perfectly normal reaction, he was starting to lose control over it.
It would pass though. This period of paranoia and restlessness would have to end at some point. That's what he kept reminding himself.
"What do you think, Bart?" Chrissy asked.
Bart looked at the plans and gave his opinion. They were looking to break ground on this project in the new year.
"Could you say that again?"
"Do you think we should apply for historical landmark status for the boutique hotel that we'll be refurbishing in the building?"
"Well, when it comes to hotel branding, every hotel does best with a distinct identity. Each identity should be backed with a story, so if the history from our building is significant enough, then we should absolutely apply for it. Have you looked into the history of the building?"
"Yes," Chrissy said. "It used to be a brewery run by a German family from the late 1800s."
"Until when?"
"Prohibition made the business go under in the 1920s."
"Regulations were a buzz kill even then," Ryan said.
"I think it would work," Chrissy said. "We could model the hotel to reflect the history of the brewery. We could even have the restaurant in the hotel reflect all of the beers that would have been made there."
"That's a fine idea," Bart said.
"I went and saw that building myself," Ryan said. "Since then, half of the building burned down in the 1950s and it lost a lot of its history. Should we just replace it?"
"I don't see why not," Bart said.
"You don't think people will question the validity of our claim for historic status?"
"Why would they?" Bart snapped.
"I don't know. Maybe locals would protest it?"
"Isn't it better to preserve what's left of the history of the building?" Bart said.
"I guess it's worth a try," Ryan said, nodding.
"Don't worry Ryan," Chrissy said. "We'll do our research thoroughly, apply for historic building status, and then we'll be protected. We're looking to preserve the integrity of the building and its history. We're doing a public service."
They finished up the meeting, and Bart went back to his office and sighed. He drained his second coffee and looked out the window.
He was tired of doing nothing as his Frank had advised. How much longer did he have to be followed? Sent threats? Although he suspected his brother was behind it, he had no proof. If his brother had thought to blackmail him, what if he could gather evidence to show that he had been resorting to espionage to threaten him? That could be the only way that Jack would drop the charges.
Bart picked up his phone and dialled the only person that still worked at Bass Industries that he trusted with his life.
"Hey, Philip? It's Bart. We need to talk."
From the top step of the Met, Evelyn sat huddled with her minions that same morning. Initially, she wasn't sure if she would get used to their submissive ways. That all changed when Eric compared them to being four adopted stepsisters, no more than five years old, who needed, depended, and were occasionally bratty. Evelyn had complete authority over them in the same way a babysitter did for the children they were watching. Some looked up to her like Lila, others outwardly despised her like Sera, and Kate was the closest to being an actual friend.
They ate their croissants and yogurt despite the increasingly frigid temperatures and gossiped to keep warm. While Evelyn didn't find babysitting the most thrilling of tasks, it was a necessary task for her to keep school order.
The minions were used to being spiteful and vindictive, and Evelyn realized that although she knew it would be foolish to dismantle Blair's carefully constructed hierarchy, Evelyn wanted to mark her own reign. From here on out, there would be no unnecessary bullying. This included ridiculing someone's last season's fashion choices or mocking someone who sat alone at the lunchroom.
The minions weren't too fond of this change, but Evelyn realized that their attention span was shorter than a fly. She would divert their attention elsewhere, and they would forget about the tormenting. It was as close to a fairer kingdom that she could achieve, and she was okay with it.
After morning assembly, Evelyn walked with Eric walked through the hall together.
"See?" Evelyn reminded him. "No more dark side. Only light during school hours."
"I have to say, I'm impressed. No yogurt in someone's hair, champagne and sex toy deliveries, or girl who's broken down in tears yet."
"And I plan to keep it that way," Evelyn said. "Unless provoked."
"Ah, famous last words there," Eric said. "Way to find a loophole."
"It's a technicality, okay? I have my fair share of enemies, and I will need a strong defence. That's all really."
"Spoken like a true Queen. See you at lunch?"
Eric disappeared in his classroom, and Evelyn continued to her most dreaded class: English. Evelyn found her seat, the middle row, and she looked at the empty desk to her right. Mr. Lawrence shuffled papers at the front of the room. His desk was always disorganized and chaotic much like his curriculum.
The second bell rang, and Ozzy slipped in the door before Mr. Lawrence shut it behind him.
Evelyn watched Ozzy make his way to the seat in the row beside her. He avoided her gaze and opened his notebook. While Mr. Lawrence voice droned one, Evelyn would catch herself trying to think of ways to get Ozzy's attention.
"As we will be wrapping up our close reading of Hamlet today, we will be begin a rather creative summative project," Mr. Lawrence said.
Creative? There was nothing creative about Mr. Lawrence's classes other than her daydreams.
Mr. Lawrence distributed the assignment papers row by row. "For our unit on Hamlet, you will not be writing an essay."
Half of the class whooped at the prospect.
"However," Mr. Lawrence said, "Shakespeare is performative, so you will be presenting instead."
The whooping's and cheering extinguished faster than a candlewick.
"You will be put in pairs and will have to come up with a way to argue your thesis. The only requirements are that it makes a coherent argument that would be found in an essay without being an essay."
"Wait, so you want us to write an essay without writing an essay?" Keith Nailer asked without raising his hand.
"Precisely. I know you all are busy writing essays for your college applications, and they are looking for something creative not formulaic. This assignment is meant to challenge the way you communicate your arguments in effective ways. It's not just what we're arguing, but it's how you present it."
Sylvia Kwan raised her hand and asked, "So, it can't be written at all?"
"I didn't say that. It just can't be a formal essay. Creativity flourishes best with collaboration which is why you'll be working in pairs. Which reminds me…"
Mr. Lawrence grabbed his clipboard and started listing off the pairs alphabetically. It only took the third pair when Mr. Lawrence called her name.
"Evelyn Bass? You'll be paired with…"
Evelyn held her breath hoping it wouldn't be with someone like Keith Nailer.
"Oscar Taylor."
Ozzy felt every muscle in his body tense up when he heard his name called. Of course, he would be paired with her. Now that he had to stay clear of Evelyn, he was naturally pulled toward her. Again.
He kept his gaze on the assignment sheet, but he knew full well that her eyes were on him.
Mr. Lawrence finished reading all the pairs on his list. "You can use the rest of class time to acquaint yourselves."
Everyone shuffled around the classroom while voices erupted. Ozzy turned to face Evelyn; his gaze guarded.
"So, Hamlet, huh?" Evelyn said. She fanned the white pages.
"Yeah," Ozzy said. He flipped through his own copy that had markings from a previous owner. "What did you think of it?"
"Well, I think Hamlet would have saved himself a lot of trouble if he talked to someone after his father died."
"That's a modern take," Ozzy said.
"What about you? What did you think?"
They were dancing around the big elephant in the classroom. Maybe this was the way forward. They could keep things professional for the sake of their grades and walk away from it.
"Well, Claudius's thirst for power started everything. I think Hamlet was justified for wanting revenge. His mom was complicit. Polonius was an idiot, and the only sane person left was Horatio, but even he contemplated suicide by the end of it."
Evelyn chuckled. "Sanity has no place in this play."
"Yeah."
Evelyn looked at the assignment. "So, we have to write an essay without it being a traditional essay. Any ideas?"
It was hard enough for Ozzy to write a formal essay, but now he had to write a creative one?
"None."
"I've got nothing too." Evelyn sighed. "Now Mr. Lawrence decides to do something 'interesting' in our class?"
"Apparently."
Evelyn checked her watch. "Listen, we're probably going to have to work on this outside of class. Why don't we meet up afterschool to work on this?"
"I can't. I have an appointment."
"How about Thursday then?"
Ozzy recoiled. He thought of his agreement with Dash. He didn't want to jeopardize the good place he was with Dash, and he was hesitant to be around Evelyn again.
"Let me check, and I'll let you know."
Evelyn's face fell. "Okay."
The bell rang, and Ozzy gathered his things and nodded at her. His grip on his books remained taut.
Blair sat across from Julian at Nous Espresso, which in Blair's opinion was the only decent coffee shop on campus. The place itself was quite plain with bare white walls and round white tables and chairs. Not one painting was hung in the place, and large windows bathed the coffee shop with bright sunlight. While the shop itself was quite barren, the coffee was rich and decadent.
"I'm so glad you called, Blair. I've been steeped in LSAT prep. How have you been since…"
Blair set her china mug on the table. "My probation? No need to leave it unsaid, Julian. Everyone knows about it."
"It's confidential. Only you, Heather, and I knew about it."
"Not anymore." Blair took a sip of her cappuccino.
"Blair, I'm sorry for how that whole situation was handled. That should have never gotten out."
"It's not your fault Julian. I will admit that it has been difficult because now everyone thinks I'm a psycho."
Julian made a face. "I highly doubt that."
"Anytime I'm around they act as if I'm wearing sandals."
"What does that have to do with…"
"Sandals are not shoes. I wouldn't be caught dead with anyone wearing them."
"Ah. I understand. I'm sure that will blow over when something much bigger happens to someone else."
"I hope so because I already feel set back from this."
"Set back from what?"
"From running for President."
"You want to run for President?"
"Of course. That's hardly surprising, right?"
"Of course not. It's just—"
"Just what?"
"All Presidents have to hold a position before they become President. Our organization is quite complicated and intricate, and dropping someone into the highest role wouldn't prepare that person to do well."
"So, you think I shouldn't run for President?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying. If you want to run for President, you need to have a plan. You're a sophomore, so you still have time to gain experience. By the time you're in fourth year, then you'll be ready."
"But you were President last year."
"And I'm taking a fifth year since I wanted to take a couple extra courses to bump up my GPA for my law school applications. That means I did serve as President in my senior year. I have the rare exception that I was elected twice, but that doesn't happen."
"Oh."
"Aspiring to run for President is admirable, and I obviously know you're more than capable. Since we vote on everything, you really need to understand that you can do everything right to get that position, but people can vote for you or not vote for you for whatever reason they see fit. You could lose. Can you accept that?"
Blair paused. She didn't like losing. It was a pain more searing than receiving a critique from Anna Wintour. However, she did know what it felt like to lose, and it never stopped her from moving forward.
"Yes."
"Good. Because that's important. Another thing to know is that we don't formally campaign. It's against our bylaws and standing rules to do that. However, campaigning isn't about telling people to vote for you. Instead, you need to build up people's confidence in you. They need to trust that you are the best choice, and that's done on a person by person basis."
"I can do that."
"I'm sure you would put in the work. But just know to cut your losses with people who are never going to like you. We're a group of many different personalities and we don't all get along."
He didn't have to tell her twice about that. She already knew who was on her forget about it list.
"So, to gain experience, I should…build people's confidence in me for a different role. Which role would you recommend?"
Julian sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. "That's a good question. You can always start off with one of the secretary positions or new member education position."
"What about one of the VP positions?"
Julian chuckled. "You really are keen on getting experience, aren't you?"
"Mother always did tell me I'm at my best when I'm not idle," Blair said.
"Clearly. Listen, I would recommend being Marshall as a starting position. Knowing all of the decorum, traditions, and ceremonies."
Blair's face dropped. How could that prepare her for being president?
"However, if you really want to aim for VP, I would suggest VPO: Vice President Organization. You deal with making our calendar, organizing all events, and work with our alumni. It requires someone who is meticulous, diligent, and thorough, and I think given who you are, and how people in our group perceive you, it's a good sell."
"Really?"
"Of course. Now, we do have a gender imbalance which affects voting. We have more boys than girls in our society. Truthfully, we hadn't started inviting girls into our society since about fifteen years ago. We've never had a female president."
"So, me running for President won't be taken seriously," Blair said.
"Not necessarily. Based on my experience, I think it would be of utmost importance to build a base. People that will unwaveringly support you being in contention for President. People who would nominate you when we begin elections."
"I really don't think Colton Hayes would be one of my top supporters."
"I'm not talking about him. Think about it, Blair. Who would most identify with you? Who could you best convince that you would be a great leader for them?"
"The other girls? That's naïve Julian."
"No, it's not. Bring them together. Unite them against someone or whatever it is that works."
"It won't work, Julian," Blair said. "I've managed a clique at an all girl's school in this very city. You can't expect every woman in our society to vote for me just because I'm a woman like them."
"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you can find a bond with them that your male opponents can't. Connect with them, unite them, you've done that before haven't you?"
Blair scoffed. "But that was through fear. We didn't vote in high school or I would have lost."
"Then you're going to need to think of a new strategy to lead, Blair."
Blair sipped her coffee. What could she do to rally the girls together? They all thought she was a pariah, and she needed to change that. Blair thought back to last year in the dorms where Joy brought everyone together. Maybe she needed to use Joy's approach. Then her thoughts drifted to annual sleepovers. Those were the days.
"I have an idea," Blair said. "A girls' night out. Unofficial. This Friday."
"That's a great idea," Julian said.
Blair pulled out her phone.
"You're not looking to break our bylaws again are you?"
"Of course not," Blair said as she texted Dorota. "I'm planning like you suggested."
Julian sighed. "I don't want to know do I?"
"It's nothing illegal. I read all of our bylaws and standing rules while I was on probation. I'm up to date now."
"That's good," Julian said. "I'm obviously going to remain impartial to this process, but if you need any advice, you can come to me."
Blair finished her cappuccino and stood up. "Thank you, Julian, but I read in our standing rules under Section C line five that you can't endorse a candidate and that includes helping them during elections."
"But, as your mentor, I am more than able to give advice."
"Bending the rules are we, Julian?"
"When it's for the greater good."
"Then I'll allow it."
Blair's phone buzzed in her hand. It was Dorota.
"I have to take this. I'll be in touch."
As Blair left the table, she started listing off things to do for Dorota. She walked with a determined stride in her step. She wouldn't just look to build a rapport with these girls. She would earn their respect.
Spotted: B having a strategy session first thing this morning. Who needs a workout to get the endorphins going when you can plot instead?
At St. Anthony Hall, Chuck sat with Colton Hayes and his roommate Ed in the common room. The house was quiet. Most people were either on campus or studying in their rooms. Colton wasn't as studious. Instead, he was watching Premiere League on the flat screen TV.
While Chuck watched sports passively, he accepted Colton's invitation. He didn't have any important class he cared to attend, and now that he was a member of Locke and Key, he figured he could use the privileges to his advantage.
"That was a wide-open net Sturridge! How could you miss that?" Colton exclaimed.
"The club paid far too much for that guy," Ed said while shaking his head. "How many open net opportunities has he missed? It's criminal."
Chuck nodded with them but had nothing to add to the conversation. European football was far from his favourite sport. The players whined too much. He preferred single player sports anyway like squash, tennis, or golf.
Colton's phone rang. He checked the caller ID. "Christ. Again?"
"Someone bothering you?" Chuck asked.
Ed leaned in to check the caller ID display. He chuckled. "An annoying ex."
Colton rolled his eyes. "She's not my ex. We went out twice. Now she thinks we're married."
"I told you to steer clear from Ava, but you let your dick do the talking. I don't feel sorry for you," Ed said.
"Fuck off. How much action has your dick gotten lately? That's right, none," Colton said.
"She's your crazy ex. May have to ask Chuck on pointers for what to do," Ed said.
Chuck recoiled. Maybe Blair was right. Putting out this true rumour was more difficult than putting out a bush fire.
"Why would Colton need to ask me what to do?"
"Oh, you know," Ed said, "With what your ex did to you to stop you from joining?"
"What she did to me? You might not want to trust your sources," Chuck said. "They aren't reliable."
"So, she didn't brand her name on your ass cheek?" Colton asked.
"What? Of course not."
"Too bad. I really thought that was true with the way she is and all."
The way she was? These two idiots didn't know the first thing about who Blair was. Chuck realized that Blair was going to have a far more difficult time with the election than she thought.
"Your point?"
"She's just…a little uptight." Ed shrugged. "Controlling."
"Makes me think she'd be good in bed though," Colton said. "Is she?"
"A gentleman never tells," Chuck said coolly.
"Whatever," Colton said.
"So, what's going on with the election coming up? How does it work?"
"There's a committee who elects a complete list of candidates to fill every position. At our last meeting of the year, we vote on it," Colton said. "Don't be a part of selections committee. It's too much work," Ed said.
"People don't campaign?"
"Not officially. You can nominate someone once the list is released. Then, we have to choose between what the selection committee put forward and who someone else put forward."
"Have you held a position?" Chuck asked Colton.
"Registrar. Easy stuff. Just had to arrange composite pictures and add them to the archive. You looking to have a position?"
"No. Just wondered how it worked since it's coming up," Chuck said. "Who do you think will be nominated?"
"It's hard to say. Most of them will be sophomores or juniors. I'm not sure who'll be President though. VPO is also tough to predict."
"VPO?"
"Vice President Organisation. That and Vice President Standards are tough slogs. Lots of responsibility, and by the end of term, no one likes you especially for standards since you have to deal with all of the girls' petty bullshit for the year."
"You know, I think Blair would be good for VPO. She's good at keeping everything in order so we don't have too," Chuck said.
"I guess," Ed said.
"Yeah, I usually vote for who was selected by the committee. It's a rigorous process. If she's up there, she gets my vote like anyone else," Colton said.
The front door squeaked opened, and a gaggle of female members appeared laughing. It was Valentina, Zara, and their crew holding their plastic bubble tea cups.
"Hey guys!" Zara said. "How's the game?"
"Pitiful," Ed said.
Valentina sidled up to Chuck. "Hey stranger. I haven't seen you since initiation. Where've you been?"
He'd been busy plotting ways to get Blair elected. He hadn't considered whether or not Valentina was worth pursuing. He didn't think she was close with Blair at all, yet she did seem to carry sway and influence with other members.
"Around."
"So vague." Valentina sat on the arm rest. "What are you doing this Friday night?"
"I'm not sure yet."
Valentina lowered her voice. "How about me?"
Chuck eyed Valentina from head to foot. Now that he'd planted the seed about Blair's election to Colton and Ed, he needed to curry more favour with the girls. Valentina, who was the natural leader of her coalition of girls, was his next target. He would remain all business with this date, but there was a pleasure that came from doing a good job.
"That could be arranged."
"Pick me up at eight?"
Chuck stood and put his hands in his pockets. "See you then."
Bart stood in the lobby of the building Thorpe Enterprises and picked up the receiver of one of the three remaining payphones. It was archaic, and Bart doubted the phones had been cleaned in months, but it was the best way for him to make an anonymous call. He clutched the phone close to his ear, deposited a quarter, and dialled.
Bart didn't want to risk meeting up with Philip in person. It didn't make sense with his every move being watched. It would be careless. They would identify Philip and immediately become suspicious.
The phone rang a couple times before Philip picked up.
"Hello?"
"It's me. Are you alone?"
"I am. I left the office like you suggested. I gotta say, Bart, you have me a bit worried. Is everything okay?"
"It is. I'm just taking precautions."
"What's going on?"
"I'm taking precautions because I've been followed for the past month."
"Followed?"
"Yes. My every move is followed, and I may have been sent threats."
"This sounds like some corporate espionage," Philip said. "Does this have anything to do with your brother taking over?"
"Yes, but I can't elaborate on that."
"I understand. Legalities are involved then?"
"They will be," Bart said. "I'm calling to ask for your help."
"What do you need?"
"Before you accept, I have I want you to know that what I'm about to ask you will put you in a precarious position. I know it's asking for a lot, but Philip, you are my only hope."
"Bart, you don't even have to ask. You know that. What do you need?"
"I strongly believe that my brother is the one behind this espionage. I don't have any proof though. Since you work close to him, would you be able to see if you can find any evidence?"
"You need me to be your mole?"
Bart grinned. "Well, I wasn't going to say it like that…"
"I know what you mean. You need evidence that he's linked to him spying on you. My only question is, how will this help you?"
"Jack may have something that may get me into trouble," Bart said. "If I have something equally as harmful on him, then I could send him up the river just like he wants to do to me."
"I knew it. I always suspected he had something on you," Philip said. "Of course, I never said anything because it's not my business."
"Right. Philip, it would be a big help if you could at least try to friend a paper trail, anything that leads to Jack."
"I know what you mean. I wish you came to me earlier about this."
"I would have if I knew how severe this really was," Bart said.
When Bart walked away from Bass Industries, he thought it would all be over. He thought that losing the best thing that ever happened to his livelihood would be the price he had to pay and that would be that. After all, Jack got what he wanted. He's CEO. Yet, that wasn't enough.
Bart thought he knew his brother pretty well. He thought he knew what inspired him, threatened him, and scared him. He didn't think decades apart changed much. Perhaps this was bigger than a competition between him and his brother.
"I'll see what I can find," Philip said. "Hang in there."
He had been hanging in there for years now. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on.
After school, Evelyn rapped Blair's apartment door. For the rest of the day, she kept wondering who to turn to discuss her latest predicament with Ozzy. Her Aunt Kim was in Connecticut this week, Eric had plans with Jonathan, and her minions weren't the types of people she trusted her personal feelings with. That left Blair, who Evelyn assumed was too busy with college to hear about her woes.
Yet, here she was, hoping that Blair could make time.
Joy swung the door open. "Hey, Evelyn."
"Hey, Joy. Is Blair here?"
"Yeah, she is. Come on in."
Blair sat in the living room consulting a white board filled with post it notes. A name was scribbled on each post-it note and put in different clusters sorted by colour. Perhaps Blair was organizing social circles. Why would she do that?
"What are you working on?" Evelyn asked.
"My five-year plan."
"Five years? I don't even have a next year plan."
Blair picked up her notebook and made a couple notes. "You should start thinking about that. Anyway, what's wrong?"
Evelyn's gaze fell to her hands. "Nothing's wrong, Actually, everything's awkward."
"Sit," Blair said pointing to the couch. "What happened? Is this Queen related?"
"No. Everything's fine with that."
"Then this is boy related."
Evelyn sighed. "Yes."
"Spill it."
"You know how Ozzy and I are in the same English class? Well, Mr. Lawrence thought it was a great idea to do this new non-essay but is an essay project for Hamlet."
"Hm. It seems that the universe doth provide opportunities," Blair said.
"Yeah, sure. Anyway, Ozzy and I were paired and now we have to do this project together, and well, it's awkward."
"How is it awkward?"
"I know Ozzy is still mad at me for what happened at the fundraiser. Since then, he can't even look at me much less converse with me on a project. I just feel like there's this huge wall up between us now, and I'm afraid of saying something wrong because the wall will grow bigger. Does that make sense?"
Blair nodded. "Of course, it does. Look, of course it's going to be awkward in the beginning. But the two of you are going to have to work through that."
"Can we though? He can't even stand to look at me, Blair," Evelyn said.
"That may be true, but there's probably more to it then that. From what you told me, you broke his trust the night of the fundraiser. If you want to work past the awkwardness, you'll have to earn his trust back."
Evelyn threw her arms in the air and let them drop. "How can I do that?"
"I think you know how. Start small. If anything, being paired with Ozzy for this project isn't a disaster. It's an opportunity. Don't waste it."
Evelyn slunk further into the couch. How was she supposed to know how to earn Ozzy's trust back? How could they ever get back to the way things were with so much water under the bridge? Did she even want to go back to how it was?
She felt a calmness in her lower belly. No. She didn't want to go back with him. She wanted to go forward. There was only one way forward for them, and it was the way they'd been wanting to go since they met years ago.
Ozzy sat in his usual spot on the couch in Jane's office, his notebook opened on his lap. Although he hadn't written for a few days, he had returned to writing in his journal. He wrote in the few pages that remained in it, where he worked through thought exercises, introspections about his father, mother, Evelyn even. He flipped through the crinkled pages as Jane settled into her chair.
Jane flipped open her legal pad and asked her usual pleasantries. She began with her standard question to open the discussion.
"How have you been doing?"
Ozzy sighed. "I'm okay. A bit on edge I guess."
"Why are you on edge?"
"Today, I was in English class where my teacher Mr. Lawrence assigned us partners for this essay project. I was paired with Evelyn, and I dunno, I just feel on edge about it."
"Okay, let's unpack that. Last time we spoke, you and Evelyn weren't on speaking terms, right?"
"Right."
"Remind me what happened last time you spoke with Evelyn?"
"I was drunk, she was running this party, and she was trying to help me."
"How was she trying to help you?"
"She noticed I was drinking, and she was trying to get me to stop. I didn't want to. I told her to stop trying to save me."
"Why did you say that?"
"I wanted to feel pain. I wanted to just drink to oblivion. I didn't want to be stopped, and I can't think of anyone else who could get through to me. I didn't want it. I was angry. Angry at my father primarily, but also angry at her."
"Why were you angry at her?"
"I was angry at her for using me to hurt Dash. I know people do terrible things when they're desperate, but it just really hurt when she did it to me. I didn't want her anywhere near me."
"So you don't want her to care about you?"
Ozzy started picking at the loose thread on the arm rest. "Well, not exactly."
"Then what is it that you want from Evelyn?"
That was the million-dollar question. Everything. Nothing. How could he simultaneously want both of these things?
"I want her to be happy."
"That's very noble of you, Ozzy, but that's not the question I asked you. Let me ask you this question in another way. What do you need from Evelyn?"
"Everything," Ozzy said quietly.
He sounded so dependent when he admitted it, and he hated that. He tried so hard to not need anyone over the years. It hurt less when people left that way.
"That's nothing to be ashamed of, Ozzy. We need people in our lives for many reasons."
"I know, but the moment you start needing someone is the moment you expose yourself and you end up getting hurt."
Jane paused her scribbling. "Ah."
"What? Don't you feel that way?"
"You feel on edge because this project means you have to expose yourself with Evelyn again."
Ozzy was silent.
"I'm not right all the time. You can correct me if you want."
"No, that's…accurate."
Jane scribbled a couple notes down.
"Ozzy? Can you stretch out your arm for me?"
"Sure."
Ozzy stretched out his dominant arm.
"Now, can you make a fist for me?"
Ozzy clenched his fingers into a fist.
"Now tighten your grip as much as hard as you can and hold it."
He squeezed. At first, the sensation felt powerful, until he felt his nails dig into his palm. His hand muscles began to tire.
"You see what you're doing there?"
"I'm making a fist."
"Yes, you are. How does it feel?"
"It's…tiring."
"Of course, it's tiring. Now imagine how tiring it would be to clench it closed to prevent anything from entering ever."
"I don't understand—"
"Being closed that tightly would likely result in feeling tired and empty wouldn't you agree?"
Ozzy released his fist.
"Yeah. Wait."
He was the fist. He was the one who wasn't letting anyone in.
"I've been shutting myself down completely to keep from being hurt." Ozzy dropped his hand in his lap.
He was thunderstruck with this revelation. Suddenly, he understood a big part of himself. He wasn't pushing Evelyn away now because he was angry at her. He was pushing her away now to prevent himself from being hurt by her. Just like he pushed his father away. Dash. Everyone. It's why he spent months of life feeling tired and empty. It was why he ran away. He shut himself down so completely that he was the fist. He was depriving himself from the things he wanted, the things he could achieve, the things that mattered most.
"Wow," Ozzy said. He clenched his fist and released it.
"It's inevitable that things will hurt us in life whether that's our responsibility or others, but if we close ourselves off like a fist, we're depriving ourselves of the lives that we want."
In retrospect, it was obvious. His pushing away everyone countless times. Drinking and drugs to fill the emptiness. How did he not see this before?
"That's something to think about," Jane said.
"I get it. Like really get it."
"So now that you understand, what are you going to do with it?"
He needed to release his fist. He needed to let those who loved him most in. His mom. Dad. Dash. Evelyn.
"Now that we have to work together on this project, I have to let Evelyn in."
His stomach clenched. Making himself vulnerable with her was easy to say, but the actual thought paralyzed him.
"That's a good start," Jane said. "It would help to start in a place that feels safe. Familiar."
A faint smile came to his lips. He knew just the place.
A couple days later, Blair arrived at Alfred Lerner Hall on the south side of campus. The hall was busy, as many students were coming and going from the bookstore, or to and from the different auditoriums for lectures. Locke and Key was hosting a fundraiser to provide meals to families for the holidays. In the bustling foyer of Lerner Hall, a table was setup for the fundraiser in hopes of catching as many students as possible during the busiest time of day: lunchtime. Blair weaved through several students to get to the table and spotted a third of the girls from Locke and Key at the table.
"Blair," Valentina said. "You made it."
"I would never miss an opportunity to work for a good cause," Blair said. She was trying to smile and appear cordial. "How much have we raised?"
"Not much," Zara said. "While the foot traffic has been a good, not many people are stopping."
Blair looked at the pitiful setup. All they had was a barren fold up table with only a clipboard and cash box on top. An eight by ten sheet of paper with small print advertising their fundraiser was taped to the edge of the table. It billowed from the foot traffic. There were no cookies, balloons, or any incentives to encourage students to engage with them. What kind of lame effort was this? No wonder they weren't raising any money.
"I can see why," Blair said under her breath. "Before you go, I wanted to talk to you all about this Friday."
"What's happening this Friday?"
"Girls, gather around."
All of the girls gathered around Blair.
"This Friday, I will be hosting a girl's night out and you're all invited."
Blair passed out the invitations that Dorota helped put together.
"Manis, pedis, catered appetizers, and a night out at the most exclusive new bar that's opened in Manhattan: Voila."
Valentina studied the invite. "I don't think I can do this Friday. I have plans."
"What plans could you possibly have that are better than this?"
"I have a date with Chuck Bass."
All the other girls gasped and began snickering.
Blair took a deep breath. One of the veins in her neck twitched. "Oh really? You think a date with a man is more important than your friends?"
"Blair, I don't need the Girl Code lecture. I'm just as much about girl power as you are. This date is unmoveable. Sorry."
"Fine. The invitation is open for everyone. There will be masseuses! Mani and pedis! The true New York Experience!"
"We'll think about it," Zara said.
"I'll have to check my schedule," Heather added.
Everyone picked up their bags and left leaving Blair to host the table with Heather. She crossed her arms. She didn't understand. Everything she was offering was a dream. Pampering, food, a good time going out. Why was that not appealing to these college age girls?
While Heather was talking to a casually interested passerby, Blair sat down on the chair. The table was pitiful. Her attempt at corralling the girls was pitiful. She was pitiful.
"Blair!"
Joy waved; her other hand linked with Simon.
"How's the fundraiser going?"
"Terribly."
"Need help?" Simon asked.
"With the crowd we have, it's not needed but thanks."
Joy picked up one of the invitations. "Girl's night out?"
"It was for the girls in our society. I thought it would be a good idea for us to go out just us girls. We're outnumbered and always get outvoted, so we tend to do the things the guys want to do. I don't know, I thought it was a fun idea."
"That is a great idea," Joy said.
"You don't have to make me feel better, Joy. It didn't take."
"Really?"
Blair nodded. "It's just like residence all over again. I don't know what it is, but all of these people would turn down a night of pampering and exclusive fun!"
"I'd come," Joy shrugged.
"But you don't drink."
"So? Maybe I'd be willing to try a bit."
Blair looked up at her conservative roommate. "Where did this come from?"
"What can I say? I'm in college. It changes you."
"Apparently."
"A few guys in our pledge class were planning on going out on Friday night. We could meet up? Unless that defeats the purpose of a girls' night out," Simon offered.
Blair sighed and said, "At this rate, it's looking to be Blair's night out. Party of one."
"Just let me know," Simon said. "I've heard of Voila. I'd be down to check it out. For the experience."
"Thanks, Simon."
Blair sat back and sighed. What was it going to take to win these people over?
Spotted: B learning that it's going to take a lot more than her idea of a fun night to incentivize her next army.
Ozzy waited in the library after school. He claimed one of the mahogany group study tables in the quiet study section, the only section of the library where you could talk, and opened his new notebook to its first page.
He was never one to be early for anything in his life. He didn't know what he was supposed to do with himself. Watch the clock? Check his phone? Start brainstorming ideas?
He settled with watching people. There weren't many students in the library today. Only a few seniors typing away on their laptops in the study carrels, probably typing out their college application essays. The librarian, Mrs. Barron, was at the circulation desk, a tall stack of science books obstructing her figure.
Evelyn appeared from behind the fiction stacks. She clutched her copy of Hamlet to her chest, the rest of her things slung over her shoulder. She took cautious steps toward him while checking her watch.
"I'm not late, am I?"
"No. I was early."
Evelyn dropped her bag on one of the wooden chairs. "You, early?"
He let himself give a small grin. "I know."
Evelyn unpacked her bag, stealing uncertain glances at him. He didn't blame her. Ozzy wasn't sure what to make of himself either.
Ozzy picked up his pen, his fingers slick against barrel. He could do this. He wanted to do this. No, he needed to do this.
"So…have you thought of any ideas for this?" He asked.
"Honestly, I'm a bit stumped by it. We've spent the past three years learning to write a formal essay, and now we're not supposed to write one? Like what is that about?"
"I dunno," Ozzy said. "But we'll figure something out. Worst case, we can use SparkNotes to get us through."
Evelyn studied him. "Ya, SparkNotes could help."
Ozzy's hands curled into fists. This wasn't going well. Like earlier this week, everything was just awkward. The big elephant in the room loomed large.
Ozzy took a deep breath and unclenched his fists. "Evelyn?"
Evelyn stopped writing and gave him her full attention.
"I forgive you. For what happened at the fundraiser."
Evelyn's pen fell out of her hand. "Ozzy, y-you don't have to say that."
"I mean it. I forgive you."
Evelyn was rendered speechless. Her blue eyes were wide, questioning.
"I don't know what to say," Evelyn said.
"You don't have to say anything."
"But I feel like I do have to say something."
"What's there left to say? You've already apologized."
"I know, but I just know that doesn't mean things are going to go back to how they were. Like, what does this," Evelyn motioned her hand to the two of them, "mean now?"
"It means we start over. Clean slate. Move forward."
"I know, but—"
"Evelyn? Take a look around. Doesn't this feel familiar to you?"
Evelyn's look of confusion turned to understanding. It was familiar. This was where they first met a few years ago. Here they were meeting in a library to work on a project. But this time was different. They were different. Unlike the first time, they were coming to the table as equals.
"It might be helpful this time if we admit to ourselves and each other what this," he made the same back and forth motion between the two of them she made, "has always been."
Evelyn couldn't meet his gaze then. She looked at her blank page.
Ozzy swallowed. He wasn't going to lose his nerve this time.
"So…what do you think? Are you interested?"
"Ozzy," Evelyn's eyes looked up at him shyly. "I've always been interested."
Ozzy felt his stomach tie into knots. His cheeks grew warm. "Okay. Yeah. Good. So Hamlet—"
Evelyn covered her hand over his, stopping him from flipping the pages. "What about you?"
"Oh yeah. Right. Me…"
"Have you ever been interested?"
He felt the urge to shut down, to protect himself from being exposed. That coping mechanism felt normal. Necessary. But it wasn't normal was it? Pushing Evelyn away again would only leave him feeling empty. He didn't want to feel empty anymore. He deserved more than that.
He had come so far. He couldn't shut down now. Not this time.
Ozzy held her hand in both of his. He looked into her wary blue eyes, and said, "Since the moment I met you."
His hands gripped hers tight. Insistent.
"Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Evelyn smiled. They looked at each other for a prolonged moment. Ozzy considered making a move, but instead paid close attention to the way Evelyn looked in that moment. Instead of letting this moment pass by like he had so many times before, he wanted to live in this moment as fully and presently as he could.
"So, Shakespeare?" Evelyn said holding up the assignment.
"Can wait," Ozzy said. "Can't it?"
Evelyn looked at the assignment. "I don't think so. We have to have this done by the end of next week, and I think we should refrain from… distractions."
"And after?"
"We move forward." Evelyn's eyes fell to their hands. Her hand intertwined with his. "Together."
He'd already waited for the right time with Evelyn for about two years now. What was one more week?
He looked at their clasped hands. They were relaxed and fit together seamlessly. He kissed the back of her hand and felt a peacefulness blanket over him. He held onto the feeling for the rest of the afternoon.
Spotted: E and O lingering at school afterhours. Wonder what D would think about this…
Blair's apartment was decked out with everything she promised. A masseuse wiped her massage table with a damp cloth while two estheticians set up a mani and pedi station in the living room. Racks of designer clothing, shoes, and makeup table were set up at the kitchen table, while appetizers were spread out on the kitchen table, and a cocktail bar was stocked and ready to make gin martinis in the kitchen.
All that was missing were the people.
Blair had tried everything. She had kept advertising her girl's night throughout the week. She texted Gossip Girl about it, even making up some white lies that Bradley Cooper would make an appearance, but none of that was enough. No one was coming, and her attempt at gaining votes was gone.
Joy appeared from her bedroom. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. She had been holed up in her room the entire afternoon writing an essay that was due at midnight.
"Wow, Blair. You certainly pulled out all the stops," Joy said. She rolled her shoulders and massaged her neck.
"This is hardly all the stops. This is a small gathering."
"When's everyone coming?"
Blair checked her watch. "They were supposed to be here half hour ago."
"Maybe they're running late? Or being fashionably late?"
Blair sighed. "Or they aren't coming at all because they think I'm crazy."
"Why would they think you're crazy?"
"They think I hazed Chuck, so he wouldn't join."
"And…that's a rumor, right?"
"Of course, it is! God, why does no one believe me?"
Joy picked at her cuticles.
"Fine. Don't answer. Anyway, this is a waste of time. Since no one is going to give me the time of day at Locke and Key, I'll never be elected for a position."
"Don't say that," Joy said. "The election hasn't even started."
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"See? They were just late," Joy said.
Blair opened the door expecting to see a gaggle of girls ready for a night of pampering and fun. Instead, only one girl stood outside her door. Heather.
"Heather."
"Hey, Blair. Am I early?"
"First to show. Come on in."
Heather produced a bottle of Absolute Vodka from her bag. "This is for you."
"Thank you," Blair said. It was a limited edition.
Heather took off her coat and boots at the door. "Mara and Emma will be coming soon. They just had to stop by St. Anthony first."
Blair felt her shoulders relax. Well, at least this night wouldn't end up being a party of one.
"What can I get you to drink?"
"Whatever you have."
Blair poured a dry martini for Heather. Heather of all people came to her girl's night out? Out of all the women at Locke and Key, Heather was the last person she expected to show up. The last time they spoke privately, she lectured Blair on following the bylaws and standing rules and put her on probation.
Heather accepted her drink and began to explore one of the racks of dresses.
"This is a bust," Blair whispered to Joy.
"No, it's not. Every vote matters."
Right. Every vote mattered. Did she think she could earn Heather's respect after her stunt? She wasn't so sure. But she had to try.
"Have you ever heard of Liz's Closet?" Heather said.
"No. What's that?"
"It's a column in our student newspaper. Liz Gillert writes a fashion column. You should talk to her and do a guest column."
Blair had never thought about seeing her name in print like that before. She always figured she fit on the society pages. But as an author on fashion? There was an inspired idea.
"That would be great," Blair said.
"Of course, she doesn't do couture."
"What do you mean?"
"It's more about how to own your style on a budget."
"Oh."
"Doesn't seem like you have one of those," Heather said. "Talk to her anyway and see what happens."
Blair excused herself and made herself an extra strong martini. She was going to need it if she was to entertain Heather for the evening.
"So, when did you say Mara and Emma are coming?"
"I'm not sure."
"Would you like to get your nails done?"
"Oh no thank you. I'm vegan, so I don't wear nail polish."
"Okay. You're welcome to a massage."
"I only see a chiropractor."
"Okay."
Blair noticed that she had barely touched her drink. It must have been awful too.
"Well if no one's going for a massage, then I will," Joy said. "I've been working on my American history paper all afternoon."
Great. Now Joy had abandoned her in her time of need. What could she possibly do to get Heather's vote? Heather sat on the couch; one leg crossed over the other.
Blair took a drink. This was going to be a long night.
Evelyn bit her bottom lip to stop herself from smiling. She probably looked like a lunatic with that smile on her walk home that afternoon, smiling and practically skipping home. All of the pain and regret she had been feeling for the past month had lifted from her shoulders. Now, she felt like she was floating.
Eric was lounging on the sofa with his phone in the penthouse. Lily was in the kitchen ordering dinner and her father wasn't home from work yet. There was a package on the counter that she didn't notice. She didn't notice much of her surroundings.
"Had enough of the library?" Eric asked from the couch.
Evelyn slipped her hands into her jacket pockets to restrain her excitement. "Stayed until they closed."
"Wow, that must have been…a productive meeting."
Evelyn shrugged. "Guess so."
"Evelyn. Good to see you. How was your day?" Lily asked from the kitchen.
"It was great actually. How was yours?"
"Fairly good," Lily said. "I had lunch with my old friend Clarissa. I've ordered pizza for dinner since Ina has the day off. Hope that's okay with you?"
"Sounds delicious to me," Evelyn said.
Eric sat up and followed Evelyn to her room. Evelyn felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.
Idea: Remember what you were saying to me about interpretive poems earlier? What if we did an interpretive poem about Polonius? We can dress up like a chicken with its head cut off. Fitting, right?
Evelyn chuckled.
Are you prepared to be covered in feathers while acting like you're headless?
Evelyn looked up from her desk chair to see Eric in the doorway.
"Are you okay?" Eric asked.
"Um, yes, I'm fine. Why?"
"You're just acting…different."
"Different? Did you prefer the nightmare that I have been for the past month?"
"No. You're happier. You're smiling. I noticed."
"Well thank you for noticing, Eric."
Eric waited at the door expectantly.
Evelyn rolled her eyes. "Nothing happened, really. Ozzy and I were able to work through some stuff out of necessity for this project."
"Ozzy, huh?"
Evelyn fell on her bed. "It's no big deal."
"No big deal?" Eric sat in her desk chair. He rolled it closer to her bed. "You were the one bemoaning that it was over with him. For good."
"I thought that was true at the time."
"And now It's not anymore?"
"Why do you care so much about my love life?"
"Your love life now? I thought you two were friends."
Evelyn threw a decorative pillow at Eric. "Now you're ruining my good mood."
Eric raised his hand in surrender. "Hey, I didn't mean to criticize you like that. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and last time that happened, you weren't very forthcoming. Truthfully, I thought this mood shift could have meant you made up with Dash."
Evelyn's smile fell. "That's not going to happen. It's over with Dash. For good."
It felt good to say that out loud. She had come to terms with that reality in Boston, and the facts of what happened didn't change. She accepted it. She and Dash were over. She didn't long for him anymore. She didn't think of him. All that was left was a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.
"Okay. Personally, I'm glad to hear that."
Evelyn's phone buzzed on her desk. Eric picked it up. "And Ozzy is back on speaking terms with you?"
Evelyn lunged for the phone and snatched it from his hand. "Something like that."
Who said I would be the one to dress up as the bird?
"How's Jonathan?" Evelyn asked as she typed.
"He's good. He left for a lacrosse tournament this weekend."
"Bummer. Best of luck to him and his team though."
With your lack of organization skills, you'd fit the part.
"Are you doing anything tonight?" Evelyn asked while pocketing her phone.
"Nothing planned."
"Want to watch the movie? We haven't done that in a while."
Eric smiled. "I'd like that."
Blair drained her third martini glass. So far, her girl's night out was a disaster. Only three girls from Locke and Key had shown up and were sitting on the couch drinking martinis. They huddled in a circle and looked at Mara's phone.
"Blair, what do you think?" Heather said.
"Of what?"
"What do you think this text message means?" Mara asked.
Hey, what's up?
"What's the context?"
"We went out last week, and we didn't text much since. I thought it went well, and now he texted me out of the blue."
"It could be one of three things. He either was busy, didn't have any luck with other women before you, or was just bored."
Mara's pale face became ashen. "You think?"
"It's best not to overthink it. Men certainly don't."
They all looked at each other.
"Look, not everyone is a texter. Still, if he hasn't shown real interest, ditch him. He's not worth your time or emotional investment if you're a passing interest to him," Blair said.
Mara covered her face and started crying. Heather rubbed her back and encouraged her to breathe.
Great. Now, she made one of them cry.
"Did I say something wrong?" Blair asked.
"No," Mara said. "You're totally right. I just got out of a serious relationship a month ago, and it's just been hard. I was trying to move on, and it's like no guy will ever show any interest in me."
"Mara, that's not true," Heather said.
"I'm sorry. I always cry when I drink."
Emma pulled out a tissue and offered it to her.
"We dated since high school. I've never been with anyone else. I didn't think it would be this hard, and this is the third time I've been stood up like this! And it doesn't help that my ex has already moved on."
"I hate it when that happens," Blair said. "They move on as if nothing happened while you are left wondering what happened. Trust me, I've been there."
"And then you start comparing yourself to their new girlfriend?" Emma scoffed. "Been there too."
"You think that's bad?" Heather said. "Try dating a guy in secret because he's ashamed to be seen with you."
"Or, this one time, I was dating this guy and really thought he was into me and that it was going to work. He was only dating me to get with my cousin who was visiting for the summer," Emma said, and drained her glass.
There was something cathartic when listening to the stories of Heather, Mara, and Emma in front of her. They were senior members of Locke and Key, and beyond that, Blair had learned that each of them was accomplished, driven, and determined. Heather had applied to medical school, Mara was finishing her undergrad in engineering, and Emma was an entrepreneur.
They all looked at her expectantly for her story. There was only one that could top theirs, and it's one Blair had never uttered nor acknowledged out of shame. Instinctively, she didn't want to say anything. She wanted to keep that truth buried, the humiliation invisible.
But if it could possibly get her votes…
Blair took a deep breath. "Trust me, that doesn't beat me bringing home a British Lord one summer to make a guy jealous only to find out the Lord was having an affair with his stepmother."
"No way!" Heather said.
Blair tightened her grip on her martini glass. "It was one of the most humiliating moments of my life."
"Humiliating for you? They're the ones having the incestuous affair," Emma said.
"Gross!" Mara echoed.
"If anything, I think you actually dodged a bullet by getting yourself away from that," Heather said with a low chuckle.
It was kind of funny wasn't it? At the time it felt tragic, an unspeakable humiliation that she didn't want Chuck or anyone to find out ever. Like most wounds, time had not only given her time to heal but to see perspective.
"What can I say, they liked to keep it in the family," Blair said.
"Too much in the family!" Heather said. Even Blair found herself chuckling along with the other girls.
Emma looked at her watch. "It's already after ten! Shouldn't we leave for Voila soon?"
Blair rose from her seat, feeling an eerie familiarity to the days when she went out with her minions at Constance. This time, she wasn't surrounded by minions. She was surrounded by equals.
"Come on ladies. It's time to leave our exes at the door, and check out New York's finest," Blair said.
Spotted: C wining and dining with a new face on the Upper West Side. Is this for business or pleasure, C?
Chuck leaned back in his chair as the waiter cleared their plates away. Across the table, Valentina leaned forward in a plunging V-neck dress, her chin resting on her hands.
"I have to say, you were right about the duck. It was much better than the flounder would have been," Valentina said.
"I have been told I am a man of fine taste."
Valentina scoffed. "And modest too."
Chuck smirked and reached out for her hand. He kissed the back of it. "You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it."
Valentina smiled, her cheeks flushing. It could have been from the wine, but Chuck knew it was a result from his charm offence as well. So far, he had been working Valentina all night. He charmed her. Complimented her. Wooed her. He knew Valentina held a strong influence for the majority of the female members who weren't seniors. There was a divide. The handful of seniors who kept to themselves, and the younger girls. While he was working the men's side of things with Colton, he knew he needed to change perceptions of Blair from a voting contingent whose opinions were hardest to sway: women.
"Can I offer you any dessert?" The waiter asked.
Chuck motioned to Valentina.
"Oh no thank you. I couldn't eat another bite!"
"Just the check please," Chuck said.
The waiter nodded and disappeared.
"So, what are Zara and Danielle up to tonight?"
Valentina had mentioned that they were roommates, and most of her stories always linked back to them. Chuck learned that when he was trying to be polite, that it was always polite to ask about people who are important to the person you're talking to.
"Oh, they're hanging out at the house with the boys," Valentina said. "They're going out with them after, but they'll be back late."
"Where are they meeting up?"
"I don't know," Valentina said. "Anyway, they'll probably have more fun with the boys then the girl's night out anyway."
"Girl's night out?"
"You didn't hear? Blair is hosting a girl's night out for all the girls in Locke and Key. Manis, pedis, and a pre-drink before going to this supposed place called Voila."
It sounded like a reincarnated sleepover to Chuck. Blair was campaigning harder than he thought.
"I didn't know that female bonding was a thing at Locke and Key," Chuck said.
Valentina scoffed. "It isn't. We're not an all-women's sorority for god's sake. We actually live in the real world. Who knows if it's even going on anyway? No one RSVP'd. Well, Heather did, but she feels like she owes her."
Why would Heather feel like she owed Blair? Chuck wanted to ask but didn't want to push Valentina too hard with more questions.
"Anyway," Valentina put her hand on his. "Why don't we have dessert at my place instead?"
While Chuck knew the only answer to keep up this charade was to say yes to Valentina, he wondered if there was something he could do to help Blair's night out. She was trying to get in the good graces of all the members, and they were not making it easy.
Chuck picked up his phone and pretended it was ringing. "Hold onto that…delicious thought. Excuse me."
Once outside the men's room, Chuck dialled Colton's number. After a few rings, he finally picked up.
"Hellllooo?"
"Colton? It's Chuck?"
"My man! Where are you right now?"
"Just finishing dinner with Valentina. What are you up to?"
"Dude, get your ass OVER here. I need my beer pong partner. I'm getting FUCKED right now."
Perfect. That was the answer Chuck was looking for.
Chuck checked his watch. It was half past ten. Guest list would end within the next hour, and he bet Blair had reserved enough spots for all of them to get into Voila. "Are you guys going out?"
"Yeah."
"Where?"
"The fuck knows!"
"Listen. I know a place where we could go."
"Where?"
"It's called Voila. Just get everyone ready now and meet us there before eleven."
Ozzy pocketed his phone as he arrived home that evening. He felt lighter, more optimistic than he had in years. In the kitchen, his mom stirred a large pot of chili and covered it with a lid.
"Ozzy. How was school today?"
"Good."
His mom did a double take. She asked him this question every day, and he always gave a routine answer: Okay. Depending on his tone, that could mean many things. It could have been bad day if he grunted his answer. It could have been a mellow day if he didn't have any attitude in his voice. Today however, he didn't even use his routine answer or tone, and his mom noticed.
"That's good to hear. Dinner's going to be ready in ten, okay?"
He could smell the buttery biscuits baking in the oven. "Okay."
Once upstairs, Ozzy's mood shifted at the sight of Dash's room. The door was closed, a warm glow peeking out underneath it. Given the day he had, he would have considered knocking until the reality of the situation set in.
He had made a deal, however reluctant, to not pursue any type of relationship with Evelyn again, and he completely disregarded that the moment he started talking to Evelyn again. His peaceful contentment washed away at the thought.
For once, he did the right thing for himself, so why did he have to face consequences? He didn't really buy into Dash's deal to begin with, but he agreed to it for the sake of their family.
He felt that same spinning sensation he always felt when things were out of his control. He thought of what he learned with Jane. He took a deep breath, in and out several times. Then, Ozzy went into his room, shut the door.
He would figure this out. Dash couldn't hate him forever. That would be far too tiring. He was just going to have to come clean, tell him his intentions, and deal with however Dash would react to the situation.
Upstairs in Ozzy's room, he dropped his back by his desk and opened the drawer. Inside were the pages he ripped from the coil of his old notebook. He took the pages out, laid them out flat on his desk, and started piecing them together.
Voila's red lights glowed amid the walls of mirrors. Heather, Mara, Emma, and Blair stood at the corner of the bar laughing while holding up their shot glasses.
"To not saying yes to your ex!" Mara shouted over the thumping music.
They clinked their glasses and pounded back their liquor.
"I did not know I needed a night like this," Emma said, teetering on her heels. "Let's dance!" Emma grabbed Mara and they headed off to the dance floor.
Heather chuckled; her eyes glassy. She leaned against the bar to keep her balance. Blair watched Emma and Mara on the dance floor, swaying to the music, holding each other up to keep each other from falling. Blair thought of Serena in that moment, and she felt forlorn. Serena was travelling the world while looking for her father. She missed having her around to hold each other up.
"Blair, Blair!" Heather shouted. "Look who's here!" Heather pointed down the bar towards a group of familiar faces approaching them. First, she saw Danielle, then Zara, then Colton and Ed.
"Sorry we're late!" Zara said.
"We brought company too," Danielle said. "Hope that's okay!"
Blair, too drunk to put one foot in front of the other, found herself saying things she would never say sober. "It's fine. The more the merrier!"
The more the merrier? This was supposed to be a girl's bonding night, not a party of interlopers. Normally, this would upset Blair, but she was too drunk to care. It's not like her night was going at all in the way she wanted it to anyway.
Colton stumbled towards her with a lazy smile. "Blair. Looking fineeee as always." He checked her out, and his gaze lingered on her chest until a familiar hand pushed him forward.
"Stop holding us up."
It was Chuck, and suddenly everything wasn't fine. Not enough alcohol would be enough to make her think this was fine. And he wasn't alone either. Valentina clung onto him, as if trying to make herself an extension to his body.
Blair pushed herself up from the bar and stumbled to Chuck. "What are you doing here?"
"Can you give us a minute?" Chuck asked Valentina.
"Fine. But only one," Valentina said. She kissed him on the cheek and slinked away.
Blair put her hands on her hips. "What are you trying to do, huh? Ruin my night again? Take over my party?"
"No—"
"Well fine. Mission accomplished!"
"That's not what I was trying to do—"
"You do realize this was a girl's night, right? Wait, how did you even know about it in the first place? Did you have your PI follow me again?"
"Are you done jumping to conclusions?"
"No, in fact, I was just getting started—"
"Blair. Turn around."
Blair turned to see all of the Locke and Key members on the dance floor. Mara gestured for her to join.
"Everyone's here for you. Not me," Chuck said.
Could it be true? Were they really all be there because of her?
Valentina returned to Chuck's side. She snaked her arms around his and said, "Ready to go?"
"You just got here," Blair said.
"I know, but we have other plans," Valentina said. "Right, Chuck?"
Chuck's gaze remained on Blair. "We do. We just wanted to stop by to check this place out. Enjoy the rest of your night, Blair."
"I already am," Blair said.
Valentina flashed a look of pity which annoyed Blair. It was as if she couldn't possibly believe that Blair could have a better night than she was going to have with Chuck. It was as if Valentina felt bad that this night as it was in this moment, was the best enjoyment Blair could have and how it would pale in comparison to hers.
Blair, who was no stranger to comparisons, chose not to read into it any further for once. There was no comparison. The only pathetic person in Voila was Valentina. The person who really should be pitied was her.
Blair danced with the same spirit she had the night she danced at Victrola. Uninhibited. Unrestrained. Uncontainable. She danced with the girls and guys alike. She even danced with Colton, whom she still didn't care for much. She was so lost in the music that she didn't notice Chuck leave.
"Where'd Valentina go?" Emma shouted.
"She left with Chuck!" Zara said.
Blair stepped away from the dance floor and scanned the club. Although she saw Chuck leave, there was a hopeful part of her that thought Chuck may have stayed. There were no traces of Chuck, and it disappointed her.
Blair pushed through the throngs of people and outside where the cool air stung her burning skin. She looked around and still no sign of Chuck.
Instead, Blair saw Heather leaning against the brick wall, puffing a joint.
"Oh shit." Heather tried to hide the joint behind her back before conceding. "Don't tell anyone, alright? It's a bad look for standards to well, you know, not meet standards."
"I'm sure there are worse things to do then smoke a joint."
Heather smiled. "Thanks for planning this. It's been a lot of fun."
"Thanks for being one of the only people to show up."
"Don't beat yourself up too bad about it," Heather said. "When I was your age, I tried to do the same thing. Rally the women together and no one was having any of it. It's strange. You'd think there would be this universal pull that we'd all feel, this pull for us women to stick together in our society, but it's the opposite. We're all just trying to beat each other to get a guy or beat each other to get a coveted position. Don't think your efforts tonight didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated."
"Thank you."
Heather took a long puff. "Also, I need to tell you something Blair. Actually, I need to apologize to you."
"About what?"
"It's my fault that everyone found out about the incident between you and Chuck. I was really drunk, and I had a lapse in judgement with telling someone I shouldn't have who in turn told everyone. I'm really sorry."
Blair leaned against the cool brick. It was Heather who spilled to some other member about her hazing Chuck? But she seemed so serious, stern, and professional. She seemed to have everything together, but with each puff she took, Blair realized she didn't. No one ever did.
"Thank you for telling me," Blair said.
Heather dropped the joint and squashed it with shoe. "You know, I was wrong about you," Heather said. "Tonight, you surprised me. You're not who I thought you were."
"Are any of us?"
Heather chuckled. "Touché." Heather pushed herself away from the wall and looked at Blair quizzically. "You're going to do some great things for us Blair. Don't let anyone hold you back."
Despite the fact that most of what she remembered from that evening would end up being hazy, Heather's words would be the one thing Blair remembered most clearly. She would remember the smell of marijuana and cigarettes. The scrape of the pavement under her heels. The rough brick wall that dug into her shoulder blades. The first flakes of snow. All of it.
Blair followed Heather back into Voila with a new sense of determination and drive. She would win a VP position during this term's election. She would later become president. She would hold a position in Pre-Law Society. She would continue to diversify her reach of campus from there. She would finally become the Blair Waldorf she wanted to be.
Opportunities. They're always out there if you're paying attention. But once they're seen, it's on you to take the chance and reach out. Looks like B reached out and grabbed onto the last helping hand she could have expected. I suppose the best help is often the most unexpected help.
You Know You Love Me,
XOXO Gossip Girl
A/N: And there you have it! Evelyn/Ozzy decide to move forward, Bart calls for backup, Blair starts working to earn votes for the election, and Chuck lends a helping hand.
What's coming up next? The next chapter is titled: It's a Wonderful Lie. Ominous, right?
So what did you think? Let me know in a review!
Thanks for reading!